Sibling Competition
by Canadino
Summary: Usually, older brothers are able to beat their younger brothers in almost everything. But then again, Romano and Feliciano aren't your ordinary brothers. Italy-centric with their boytoys Germany and Spain. T for some sexual banter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

Sibling Competition

It was all Feliciano's fault. Really, it was. If it wasn't for his stupid little brother, he wouldn't be in his situation. Spain would not be staring at him like a man who had never seen other men before. And it wasn't that strange of a question to ask.

Alright, maybe it was.

But it was Feliciano's fault.

Granted, he hadn't wanted to see Feliciano at all. He never really did. Whenever his stupid brother was around, it was always 'Germany' this and 'Germany' that or 'potato' this and 'beer' that. Romano had woken up with a good mood, eaten breakfast in a good mood, was lazing around in a good mood when lo and behold, his brother appeared out of nowhere in his living room.

"Guess what, Romano? Guess what, guess what, guess what?!"

Something which required Feliciano to add an extra 'guess what' had to be news. Pretending to look interested (which only required a twitch), he put on an older brother air. "What the hell now."

"No, you hafta guess."

"Um…Germany died."

"_What_?! He did?! NO! I just left him only a few minutes ago…" Glancing around nervously, Feliciano looked near tears. "Who did it? Was it England? I knew it!"

"Relax, it was just a guess." Romano rolled his eyes, turning back to the mafia magazine he was reading. Wait, who stocked his magazines with weapon catalogues?!

"Oh! Okay! Well! You guessed wrong! Germany's still very much alive!"

"Feliciano, will you stop using exclamation marks? Overuse will cause them to become extinct."

"Really? Is that true? How do you know?"

"It pertains to question marks and periods and commas too," Romano continued, leafing through the magazine. These were pretty chic machine guns.

"Oh okay then I'll tell you right out without using any punctuation marks guess what Romano yeah that's right I had sex with Germany last night so guess what I'm not a virgin anymore!" Italy cheered for himself, before stopping. "Wait, I used an exclamation mark."

"You did _what_ with Germany?!" Okay, so maybe he didn't like Feliciano very much, but he was still his brother, and older brothers had to worry about these kinds of stuff. "No, you didn't Italy. Don't lie to me."

"I did. I swear, I did! Do you wanna see? He gave me this big hickey on my neck. Do you wanna see?!"

"No, Feliciano, I don't. Normal people usually don't show their sex scars to the public." But Feliciano had gotten his attention and he had put the magazine down. "I can't believe you. I told you he was a bad nut and here you go, doing stupid things again. I can't believe it. Did you remember to use protection?"

"Germany said we had to use two."

"He would," Romano muttered to himself.

"But hey! It's a good thing! I'm not a virgin anymore! Isn't that great? I'm an adult now." Throwing his chin up proudly, Italy nodded. "I'm an adult," he repeated.

"Just because you're a virgin doesn't mean you're less of an adult, Feliciano."

"But I _feel_ really older, you know what I mean, Romano? You know what I mean, right? Cause you're not a virgin." When Romano didn't respond, Feliciano's eyes widened. "What?! Romano! Why didn't you tell me! You haven't done it yet?!"

"Why would I tell you, dammit?" Romano muttered, feeling his face grow red.

"But…but…I thought you would have already…cause you're older…but…" Italy shook his head. "This isn't good! A little brother can't one-up his older brother! That's it. You're going to have to lose it now."

"When you say 'now', you don't literally mean…"

"Now! We've got to find you someone _now_! Oh! I know! How about Spain? You two are close anyway…and I would have thought that you two would have…"

Now Feliciano was silenced because Romano had pelted him with all the magazines that had been previously sitting next to him. "Don't say anything like that, dammit! Spain and I have never…he's never…!" Yes, Spain had hinted at it and even tried to initiate it (while drunk), but Romano had fended him off every single time. "Why would I want to lose my virginity to _Spain_ of all people?!"

"Because…because…he cared for you when you were a little kid…and he still does…so I only thought, since he's so nice to you, that maybe…"

"Well, I'm not. And that's the end of the question."

"But Romano, you've _got_ to…"

"I haven't got to do anything, dammit."

Italy sulked. "Alright, fine. Then it's your loss. It's a lot of fun. Germany knows a lot too. Did you know, that if you're in the right position, that…"

"You know I want to know nothing about Germany in that retrospect."

"Aw…"

But even when Romano threw Feliciano out after the little idiot proceeded to tell him much more than he ever wanted to know about Germany, when he thought about it…he had been beaten by Italy again.

He was still a virgin when his little brother wasn't.

This could not be so.

It was a man's pride.

So he had to really go out and lose it as quickly as Feliciano had said. But with whom? Hungary was freakishly creepy and was probably latched onto Austria…France was just downright perverted…England was probably rolling around with America as he thought, not that he would ever got for that island nation…which left only one choice in the near vicinity.

"Spain, will you have sex with me? Right now?"

And thus, where he was. Spain's face had reddened and he looked like he temporary lost his brain. Well, he looked like that all the time, just more so now.

"Romano…are you asking…why all of a sudden?"

"No reason," Romano muttered, turning around. "I just thought…but if you don't want to, I guess I'll go find someone else…"

"Find…?" Spain's face suddenly lit up. "Oh, does this possibly have anything to do with Italy? He was going around to everyone in sight and telling them that he and Germany did the deed. Is that it? Is it because you lost to your brother?"

"Lost? I haven't lost _anything_, dammit! Just because he goes and gets knocked up by Germany does not mean I lost anything! Dammit! Why does everyone get so obsessed with sex?!" Crossing his arms, Romano glared at Spain. "I knew it was a bad idea to come to you."

Quickly jumping to redeem himself, Spain flung his arms around Romano. "Oh, no, no! That's not what I meant! I mean, if it is…well…I'm touched that you came to me first…but are you sure? You shouldn't rush into things like this, Romano. Losing your virginity is a big deal. I don't want you to do something you don't really want to do." Staring the green eyed Italian in the eyes, Spain frowned. "Are you completely, absolutely, no-questions-asked sure that you want to do this?"

"Yes, Spain, I am completely, absolutely, no-questions-asked sure that I want to do this," Romano said tiredly. "Now hurry up, because I've scheduled a nap for later and I don't want to miss it."

"Well, okay, but I think you might be taking that nap a lot earlier than you intended when I'm done with you."

"Will you stop talking like that?"

Spain laughed, leading Romano into his room. "We'll take it slow, cause it's your first time. Don't worry, okay? Boss Spain's gonna take care of you~!"

It was true; Spain was utterly gentle when it came to things in the bed, and Romano was feeling rather comfortable until they had recklessly abandoned their clothing and something didn't seem right, didn't sit well with him, and he didn't think it was the pineapple-sardine pizza he had for breakfast. "Wait, wait, wait. Stop." Shoving a hand in Spain's face, Romano pushed the man off him. "I…I don't think I'm ready. Cause…cause…you're you and I'm me. It's not…now's not the right time, you know? Dammit, I don't even know what I'm talking about."

Spain stared at him, before smiling and ruffling his hair. "I understand. Take your time. Just come to me when you're ready, okay?"

"Hmph. When I'm ready, anyone is game."

"Eh?! No!"

Well, maybe Feliciano beat him this time, but when it came to partners…he just won in dedication by a landslide.

Feliciano: 1. Romano: 1

Owari

--

note: Yeah…about that…I might make this a drabble collection (more like a fic collection, honestly), but not about Romano losing his virginity. This was awkward in itself. I had originally planned it about Italy bragging about how he was further than his brother and suddenly this appeared on the screen. I don't write M. I can't physically make myself write smut. And besides, I have important ADVANCED PLACEMENTS Thursday. So I can't afford to let my mind wander. Review. And pray for me. Or do whatever you constitute gives others luck. I NEED it, since Hetalia hasn't been providing adequate historical help.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

Sibling Competition

It had been a stupid argument. Romano didn't remember what had set it off. Hell, he didn't think Feliciano remembered what they had been bickering about in the first place. But things turned heated and his brother shouted something in his face: "Well, maybe, but does Spain get up at night to get you ginger ale when your tummy aches?"

"This has nothing to do with Spain!"

"Well, Germany does it for me." Romano rolled his eyes.

"Feliciano, why does everything you talk about always goes back to Germany?" He crossed his arms, glaring at his indignant little brother. "You know I hate his guts."

"That's not the point. The point is that Germany's willing to do a lot more for me than Spain will for you."

"This argument wasn't about them in the first place!"

Feliciano shook his head, mirroring his brother by crossing his own arms. "Doesn't matter," he said stoutly. "I still win."

A vein in Romano's forehead twitched. He didn't like having people talk about his relationship with Spain, but he _definitely_ didn't like it when people said that Germany and his little brother's relationship was better than what he had. "We weren't talking about that," he grounded, "but you're _wrong_."

"Shut up, Romano. You know it. You haven't gotten Spain whipped."

"Do you even know what that means?!"

"What? Whipped?" Out of nowhere, Hungary popped her head out from behind the corner, her eyes wide and (semi) creepy. The various wildflowers in her hair scattered as she ran up to the Italies with the same enthusiastic wide eyes. "What is this about Spain and Germany being whipped?"

"Nothing," Romano said quickly, although Feliciano ruined the whole act. "Hungary-nii-san, Romano thinks that he's got Spain whipped but he's wrong. Don't you think Germany's better to me? Don't you think?" Turning on the bishonen sparkles, he appealed to the woman who had been an adequate big sister when he was younger. Hungary stared at him for a moment, before turning to Romano, before a creepier grin crossed her face.

"Why don't we have a contest to settle this? I think you two like games?"

"Love them!" Feliciano cheered, as Romano turned with a sulky expression.

"Good!" With the same smile, Hungary pulled out an already-made list from her pocket, shoving a disposable camera back into the recesses of her skirt. "I was wondering when I could use this…but! It's an easy contest, so you two should grasp the rules fairly quickly.

"Here I have a list of things that are pretty cool to do with your significant other, but not a lot of people will do them. I mean, Austria…he won't do any of them with Prussia no matter how hard I beg…"

"Eh? Hungary-san, weren't you and Austria in a relationship?"

"Oh? Oh, heavens no! I mean, yes, I like Austria and he likes me, but I prefer watching guy-on-guy action." Beaming, she held the list up in front of her. "But enough about me! Anyway, the first one to do all these tasks can truly say that they've got their man whipped! Are you in? Yes?"

Feliciano, still wound up in the excitement that Hungary was spreading, nodded eagerly. "Yes!"

"Don't be so hasty, Feliciano. This is _Hungary_ we're talking about." Romano turned to Hungary with a bored expression. "We're not doing _anything…_"

"Oh really?" A shadow crossed Hungary's grinning face and Romano wondered if it was just him or did the nation pull out a revolver? Quickly backtracking, Romano shook his head fervently. "I mean, we're not doing anything, so we may as well do this game of yours, right?!"

"That's right." Hungary cocked her head. "So! Get your little boytoys and this game will begin! And remember…_Hungary-nii-san is always watching you!_"

--

Romano hadn't really been expecting anything embarrassing or difficult to do – asking Spain to go out with him for the afternoon was embarrassing enough when the Spaniard glomped him after the last word left his lips. Now with the zealous dark haired man walking next to him cheerfully, he turned to the sheet of paper Hungary gave him and nearly decided to call it off.

_Go to a photo booth with your significant other and take up a whole roll of film._

"So what do you wanna do, Romano?" Spain asked as Romano finished reading the first object on the list. "Well, knowing you, we're probably going to go eat first. Where do you wanna go? I'm fine with anything…"

The only photo booth – and Romano wondered if Hungary had just had it installed for this purpose – was in the middle of the busy square they were in and instead of having the black curtains around the sides to keep the privacy of the photo-takers, it was completely open. In other words, Romano was liable to having other people see him and Spain taking pictures together like idiots.

"_No_," he whispered harshly.

"What?"

But he had to win this game. Germany and his little brother being the better couple was much out of the picture, even if he had to sacrifice his own pride to prove this. Mustering up every ounce of courage, he turned with Spain with what he hoped was a welcoming smile. Spain shrank back from the grimace that greeted him.

"Wanna…wanna go into that photo booth with me?" As he said these words, he felt his face grow more red at the minute. Spain blinked once, then twice.

"Romano…we're in public…are you sure?"

"Just to take pictures!" The Italian shouted, feeling more heat pool in his face from the suggestion. He was aware that he was drawing attention to himself. "Please…?"

The way Romano begged…it was so cute and so gentle and so unlike Romano…Spain felt a blush form on his face as well as the smaller nation stared determinedly at the photo booth, as if it were God himself. Grasping the other's hand, Spain grinned and started marching toward the photo booth. "If you want to, Romano!"

"…arg! I don't _want_ to…stop pull at me, dammit!"

--

It hadn't been too hard to pull Germany into that photo booth, Italy mused. It was just like most of his usual fancies and the blonde usually found it easier to go along with it. Clinging to Germany's arm, Italy glanced back at the list.

_Watch a sappy chic flick with your significant other._

Italy looked around while dragging Germany, who looked awkward as usual in the crowd. "Oh, look, Germany! That theater's got runs of _Thirteen going on Thirty_! Let's go watch it!"

"Isn't…isn't that a movie for girls?" Italy was making a scene and they had been earning very strange looks since Italy squealed loudly at the photo booth. Germany didn't go well with crowds and he found it a bit difficult to act natural when everyone was staring at them.

"Oh, but it's a _good_ movie! Come on, watch it with me?" Italy gave Germany his signature puppy eyes. "_Please_, Germany? It won't take too long."

It was really hard to resist Feliciano's puppy eyes. Ask anyone who has been the victim of them. Clearing his throat, Germany willed the flush on his face to disappear. "Well…if it's only for a short time…then I guess it's not a problem…"

"Yay!" Italy pulled Germany along toward the theater. "I love you, Germany!"

"…um, yes."

--

Well. Watching _She's the Man_ had been pretty taxing. Half way through, Spain had thought that dark places were for making out, as he kept trying to initiate with Romano. Personally, Romano wouldn't have minded, as it was dark and no one would probably see them, but then it kept ringing in his head. _Hungary-nii-san is always watching you_!

It would explain the strange feeling they were always being followed…

Glancing at the next item on the list, Romano was pretty sure he had been dragged into one of Hungary's elegant schemes. _Buy furry handcuffs with your significant other._

He was _not_ going to open his mouth and ask Spain that.

Unfortunately, Spain had realized Romano's fixation with the piece of paper and plucked it from Romano's hands. Being taller, Spain held the paper over him, out of Romano's grasping hands. "What's this, Romano?"

"It's just a list, give it back to me, dammit!"

"A list…?" Spain trailed off as he read off the various numbered items. "Oh, then we've got to go buy furry handcuffs now, right? Kinky!"

"I-it's not mine!"

"Then whose list is this?"

"It's…it's…nothing." Romano looked away. Spain already knew about the list, so what was the point of continuing? "It's…it's a dumb list Hungary gave me to do with you, okay, dammit? Don't read anything in it!"

There was such a long pause that Romano turned back to Spain angrily. "Well, go ahead! Make fun of me!"

"I wouldn't do that. We've got some handcuffs to get! What color do you like? Pink is the most common, but I think green would be really cute with your eyes…"

Romano took the paper out of Spain's hands and hit him across the head with it. "What are you going on about? We're not actually going to _do_ this, are we?!"

"Well…if Hungary wants you to do it, then you should probably do it! And anyways, it's fun, isn't it?" Spain grinned. "I like spending time with you, even if we're doing crazy stuff."

Flushing for the umpteenth time, Romano turned away before Spain could tease him about his redness again. "W-well…"

"Come on! I don't know how many shops sell that kind of stuff around here! Let's go looking!" Grasping Romano's hand, Spain led him along. "Hey, I know. Let's try them out tonight, eh?"

"_No_."

--

Whistling rather happily, Feliciano consulted the list again. These handcuffs were rather comfortable; at least, they were nicer on the wrist than the standard metal ones Germany always had. In excitement to try the new toy they had bought, he had broke them in by handcuffing him and Germany together. Presently, he was pulling the blonde along, who was trying to hide his face while being connected to the smaller nation by shock yellow fuzzy handcuffs.

_Play in a fountain with your significant other before exchanging a passionate kiss_. Ah-ha! Last thing on the list! Feliciano turned to Germany with wide eyes. "Okay, Germany! One last thing! Let's go play in the fountain!"

Germany stared at him before answering in startled German. "_Nein_."

"Aw, come on, Germany. You've played with me all the way up to now, one last thing? It's not going to be anything bad."

"Yes, but all those other things, they were normal. It's not allowed to go play in public fountains."

"Since when were you so concerned about following rules?" Italy purred, slinking up to the blonde until they were even closer than the handcuffs. "World War 2, remember?"

"That was then, this is now," Germany said firmly. "This is outrageous, Italy. Why are we doing such weird things today?"

"But…but…" Italy whimpered, willing tears to flood his eyes as he hid the list behind his back. "Germany, it'll be _fun_."

"No. I'll do a lot of things to help you out but I won't play in fountains."

He hadn't gone this far to lose! Cocking his head and looking as cute as possible, he leaned up to Germany. "Just one time, Germany. Once? For me?" Pulling the other nation down, as Italy had never been graced with as much height as the former, he smiled shyly as he drew their lips together. "Just once. One time."

He knew Germany was about to break, but the nation was much more sturdy than Italy had expected. "No."

If Romano was able to get Spain into the fountain…he would lose. And although his brother and Spain, bless their hearts, were cute together…nope. It was out of the question.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

He couldn't lose!

--

"We're supposed to play in the fountain."

"You're fucking kidding."

"Nope."

Spain and Romano stood in the middle of the thinning square. It was already evening and the sun was starting to set. Finally settling on a pair of purple handcuffs, which were in Spain's pocket for safe-keeping, they stood in front of the white marble fountain.

"So…after you, Romano."

"You are _insane_ if you think I'm going to splash around in that fountain."

"I am a bit cracked, yes." Spain grinned as Romano opened his mouth to protest when he lifted the smaller nation up and threw him in the water. Climbing into the fountain before Romano could sputter out, he splashed Romano again as the Italian surfaced.

"What are you _doing_, dammit?!"

"Come on, we're almost done!" Laughing, he threw a handful of water in the air, scattering drops. "You used to love playing in the water, Romano! What happened?"

"I grew up," Romano grumbled, sitting in wet clothes and scowling. Spain laughed again, treading through the water to get next to the grumpy twin. "You have to admit, falling into a fountain is pretty exciting."

"Being thrown in the fountain, you mean," Romano corrected. Spain shrugged, sitting down next to him. "I can't believe we actually did all that. I mean, I knew Hungary was a little weird but…" Before he could continue, Spain had grabbed him and kissed him hard as the fountain above them sent jets of water around them. Tongues fighting for dominance, Spain pressed against Romano's wet shirt, his fingers absent-mindedly finding their way to the taboo curl, which he wrapped around his fingers. Romano, who had been violent and unmanageable up until now, clung –yes, clung – to him, trying to both untangle his curl from Spain's grasp and pull the Balkan closer. It was a rather strange battle.

"It's a pity the handcuffs are soaked," Spain murmured as he pulled away, pulling his hand away as Romano let out a sigh of relief.

"I don't care, dammit."

The sound of clapping greeted them as a beaming Hungary came forward, until she was up at the rim of the fountain. "Good job, boys! You finished the list!"

"So I won?" Romano asked, feeling his face heat at being caught with Spain but his pride finally getting a hold of him.

"On the contrary, my dear Romano. You were two hours late. Your brother already got Germany into the fountain and out since three. He wanted to wait around to see you finish but Germany insisted they go home and dry off."

Romano gaped. "How…_how_ could he get all those things done in time?"

Hungary clapped her hands as she giggled. "Actually, the two of you were at the same place, although he bought the handcuffs while you two were still looking for a place to buy them from. I thought it would be kind of close, since Germany didn't want to get in the fountain at first. But then your brother, what a dear, pulled the ultimate weapon out."

"What?"

"He said if Germany didn't get in the fountain with him, then no sex for a month."

Romano cringed at the images that Hungary was putting in his head. "So Germany agreed?"

"He practically jumped in, my dear. Italy really has Germany _whipped_."

"Dammit." Standing and climbing out of the fountain, dripping water everywhere, Romano was in an extremely bad mood when Spain climbed out after him. "What? Romano, what's she talking about? Whipped?"

"Go home, Spain!" Romano shouted, storming off.

"But…but…we didn't use the handcuffs yet!" Running after the pissed off nation, Spain left Hungary alone next to the fountain.

Today had been a wonderful day! Not only did she set up two of the most adorable couples in the world (America and England didn't _quite_ count and France basically hit on everyone), but she had gotten so many pictures…boy oh boy. And who knew that Germany was so easily whipped by someone like Italy? The little boy she had raised had turned out nicely.

As for Spain and Romano…it was pretty clear, pretty apparent…that Spain had _Romano_ whipped.

Feliciano: 2 Romano: 1

Owari

--

Note: Italy pulls in the lead! But you didn't think, did you? That our dear Italy's got Germany whipped? GERMANY? Ha! I didn't think I would continue this soon but I got inspiration so here it comes. I apologize for the crappy chic flicks. I couldn't think of anything off the top of my head. Romano's gotta win some of these! Oh, I know! YOU CAN DECIDE! Review and state which Italy brother you want to win the next one! That gives you another motive to REVIEW! Yeah!

Oh, and thanks for all who wished me well for the AP. I tried my best!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

It was always a battle of being better with America.

"Well, where _my_ house is, it's really warm. But where you live, Canada, it's so cold! I mean, you practically live in the Arctic!"

"We have summers too," Canada muttered to himself, frowning. All he wanted was to get along with his brother; not pick fights with him whenever they visited each other. Kumajiro, a baby polar bear, sat between them, switching slow glances between the two blondes. America had been okay to deal with when he was smaller, but now as he had been adopted by England and was starting to perk on puberty, he was being almost unmanageable.

"They're not as awesome as mine."

"Where we live was foreordained. Just because you happened to turn out where you turned out doesn't mean anything special." Canada crossed his arms and attempted to do damage control. "How's England?" he asked to change the subject.

"Oppressive."

"I thought you liked him."

"I did. I mean, I think I still do, but you can never tell with England. He keeps sending me all these people he can't deal with. I mean, I'm not an orphanage! Bushy brows just can't seem to be cool with people who aren't conforming to the norm, you know what I mean? Seriously. Not awesome."

"I'm telling England you said that."

"No! Don't! He'll get mad at me…I don't want England mad at me. He gets all…all…PMS." America tried out the new word he had learned from France, who had been picking at his borders now and then. Canada didn't seem to know what it meant, though neither did America. It sounded pretty awesome to say, though.

"Ah, I get it," Canada chuckled. "You have a mommy complex, America."

"W-what?!"

"A mommy complex. You like England. You two are so close, you even have lover spats. Don't lie to me, I see how you two are." Canada tried to cover the grin that was covering his mouth as America's face got redder. "It's really cute."

"Oh yeah? Well…well…at least _I_ don't have a daddy complex! That's not awesome at all!"

Canada's grin faded slowly. "What do you mean?"

"A daddy complex! You've got it!" Jumping on Canada's hesitation, America leapt for the kill. "Don't think _I_ haven't seen _you_ with _France_, Canada! Cuddling all the time! I mean, honestly! Have some public decency!" It was a bit strange to say England's words, but somehow the argument called for it.

"I haven't…just because we cuddle doesn't mean I have a daddy complex!"

"Oh, and you're excited whenever he comes to visit you. You've got a daddy complex."

"Eh, just who was asking a certain someone not to leave a while ago? Just bawling his face out?" Canada stuck his tongue out at America, knowing full well that it was extremely immature of him to be doing so when he would be turning thirteen soon.

"All France wants is your stupid beavers! He wants to make them all into hats! That's what England told me!" America pointed an accusing finger at his little brother. "That's what England told me, so it's true! So ha! France doesn't love you at all!"

"And England's just leaving you with his refugees! And he wants your land because all he is is a stupid island that can't get any without finding some! And you're stupid!"

"You look just like me but you're not! And England loves me, what are you talking about?"

"I never said he didn't, I just said you had a mommy complex!"

"And you have a daddy complex!"

"You're so stupid, America! I hate you!"

"I hate you too, Canada!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The two turned away from each other, both seething. America stormed out of the house as Canada coaxed Kumajiro to the kitchen. "America thinks I have a daddy complex," he grumbled as he pushed Kumajiro forward. "I don't have a daddy complex. I like France. But I don't have a daddy complex. He's not even my real father. I existed without him. And he doesn't just want my beavers. And I don't have a daddy complex."

Canada was just pouring out food for Kumajiro when the doorbell rang again. If America was back to poke some more fun after coming up with stupider thoughts, he would just have to let his dumb brother have it. Throwing open the front door with all means to explode, Canada blinked when instead of America, he saw France.

"Canada!" Bending over to wrap his arms around Canada in a big bear hug, France literally picked his little colony off the ground. "It's been too long!"

"France!" Canada squealed, squirming in the nation's grip.

"But, Canada, you've got to be more careful. You shouldn't open the door without checking who it is first. It might be England, you know. And England is bad." France put Canada back down on the doorstep as Kumajiro trotted over to inspect the visitor. "I wouldn't want you to be taken by that ultimate evil."

"No, I like being with you France!" Canada insisted, pulling the older nation inside the house. "And you'll never guess what happened to me today! America came and started picking on me!"

"America? That uncivilized little boy?" France's face darkened. "I'm going to have to have a little talk with England about this."

"He said I have a daddy complex. Do I?"

France blinked. Out of all the strange things to come out of his Canada's mouth. It must be England. England was telling America weird little things and America was repeating them and tainting every nations' colonies. England…that man spread like the Plague. "Well," France said, kneeling down to look Canada in the face, "just because I'm acting as your father doesn't mean you have a daddy complex. Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," Canada protested, although he felt his face grow hot. He wasn't very sure why, only it probably had something to do with America. Why did he have to share boarders with that boy?

"Then you love me. Just because you love someone doesn't mean you have a complex." Drawing Canada up to another hug, France smiled. Oh, the joys of being a parent! "I love you too, Canada."

"See, I told America he was being stupid," Canada muttered, wrapping his arms around France's neck.

"America _is_ stupid. He gets it from England."

--

"England, guess what? I beat Canada today!" America burst into his house, knowing England was there due to the air of formality in the atmosphere. England was sitting at the kitchen table, reading some documents while drinking tea, which America had imported especially when England came to visit. The older nation looked up.

"How did you beat him?"

"I won an argument with him. He thought he could beat me, but he couldn't. Like usual." Walking up to England to give him a kiss on the cheek hello, he grinned as England ruffled his hair.

"Yes, it would be embarrassing and unlikely that an English colony would lose to a French colony," England assured. He was about to ask America how his day was besides that when America went on. "And then Canada kept going and said I had a mommy complex! Funny, right?"

Mommy complex?

"What made him think I was your mother?" England asked, feeling a vein throb in his head.

"I dunno. France, maybe?" America found that he was always correct when he blamed things on France. Crops not looking so good? France cursed him! Village uprisings? France was behind the scenes! Taxes not being paid? Well…

"I'm going to have a little _talk_ with that man," England said, looking away while the papers in his hand crumpled under his grip. America flinched and chuckled nervously. "But it's okay, England. I like you, but I don't have a mommy complex."

Eh, it was embarrassing to hear things like that…

"Oh, and what's PMS?"

Owari

--

Note: How could I forget US and Canada? I hope you'll excuse my lapse from the Italies to write the North American sibling competitions. A bit more fluff than I expected. Canada makes a cute tween. And America hasn't learned to shut his mouth yet. Actually, he never has. This is supposed to take place before the Seven Years War. Animosities between France and England abound. Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Sibling Competition 4

It had been an innocent question that Romano had asked when the two were actually getting along relatively well and were presently in the kitchen, enjoying a bottle of wine that Feliciano had dug out from a corner of the fridge. It was of the red quality and had a nice finish. "I was wondering…how smashed have you gotten, Feliciano?"

"Eh…much, I guess," Feliciano said, staring off in space for a moment to think.

"How much?"

"Once I paraded around in Germany's clothes."

"That's nothing new."

"I supposedly also offered to sleep with France but I don't remember that very well."

Romano's mouth fell open. "You did not. You just made that up. You've never been that drunk before."

"Uh-huh! Yeah, I did!"

"And how would you get your hands on that much alcohol?"

"I lived with Germany for a while!" Feliciano cried. "People at bars call him by his name! And wurst goes good with beer." Wringing his hands to try and prove his point, Feliciano nearly spilled the remaining wine in the bottle. Romano gave his little brother a disbelieving look.

"Maybe so," Romano said slowly, "but I don't think you could put that all down and keep it down at the same time."

"I could." Feliciano's carefree look hardened uncharacteristically as he glared at his older brother. "You're all talk anyway; that's still your first glass and this is my third." Feliciano flourished his empty wine glass in the air while gesturing toward Romano's half-full one. "You lived with Spain all this time and we both know Spain isn't a very big alcoholic."

"It doesn't matter if Spain never drank," Romano said exasperatedly. "If your body can't hold it, it can't hold it. Please, Feliciano. You may beat me in some aspects, but you can't really expect me to believe you can hold down _that_ much alcohol." The amount needed for a nation to blindly ask France if he was cool with sharing beds had to be an ungodly amount. England had never gotten that far.

"You wanna bet?" Feliciano challenged.

And thus, here they were, seated next to each other at a bar, with Germany on Feliciano's side and Spain on Romano's side as designated drivers (or at least, the ones to carry the twins away should they pass out). There seemed to be an unspoken contest between the Italies, and the bartender, Switzerland (appropriately neutral as not to serve either twin unfair amounts of alcohol) placed two shots in front of the brunettes. "Hands on the table," he ordered, flashing the holster on his belt.

The two slapped their palms onto the bar. Spain leaned in eagerly, sensing the tension, while Germany groaned and rested his throbbing temples against his hand.

"Ready…" Romano's hand twitched. "Set…" Feliciano's face split into an excited grin. "_Drink_!"

The first few shots were downed rather quickly (Romano chuckling as Feliciano complained his throat was starting to burn), although the alcohol started to take its effect after the fifth drink. Germany was continuing to nurse his growing headache as Feliciano started to wobble on the barstool. Romano could barely think straight but managed to keep upright. Rolling his eyes on the absurdity of the whole situation, Switzerland set down two more shots of scotch, collecting the empty shot glasses.

"Ponies~" Feliciano slurred, fumbling for the glass. Romano nearly spilled his as he brought it up to his lips, Spain reaching out concernedly. Apparently, the older brother obviously wasn't totally buzzed yet, as he slapped Spain's hand away.

"Er, Feliciano," Germany started. "Maybe you should slow down. Alcohol poisoning is not a very comfortable thing to go through and you're going to have one nasty hangover." He would know; drinking with Prussia seemed to be like drowning in a lake of beer. That, _and_ Prussia never seemed to be satisfied with anything less than thirty mugs of beer. Punk.

"Caan't lose," Feliciano mumbled back, setting the empty shot glass down uneasily, his fingers seemingly out of control. Switzerland pulled out his gun and shot in the air, shocking everyone in the bar except Romano and Feliciano.

"Listen, you useless nations," he growled. "If either one of you pukes over this place, I'm going to invade your vital regions. _Painfully_." He cocked his gun. "It's _your_ duty," he continued, pointing the gun at Spain, then Germany, "to take these suckers off to the bathroom of they're going to hurl. Or the threat goes to you as well."

Germany really needed some aspirin.

"I'm…not done," Romano said slowly, trying to see straight. Feliciano had already started singing some nonsense about friendship and cheese. Switzerland filled up another round of shots and passed it on the table.

The two downed the shot (slower than at first), and at the same time, as if they were telepathically connected, turned and kissed their respected ally. Switzerland gave an exasperated sigh and went to refill the little bowls of peanuts as the twins broke away at the same time.

"You're not half bad," Romano shot at his brother, shakily. He was starting to see three Felicianos. His brother merely giggled, speaking such rapid Italian all of a sudden that not even Romano understood what his brother was saying.

"I think they're done," Switzerland said, watching as Feliciano leaned against Germany, his eyelids starting to droop. Romano wasn't as clingy, but he was already dozing lightly.

"So who won?" Spain asked cheerfully.

"They were tied at sixteen at the last one," Switzerland said, collecting the empty glasses.

"_Wait_." Romano reached over the bar and grabbed Switzerland, with much more force and intensity than he had when he was sober. The startled nation reached for his gun but Spain quickly pulled Romano back before was shot in the face. "One more. I don't think…think…" For a moment, Romano seemed as if he forgot his brother's name. "_He_ can hold anymore," he finished, pointing at Feliciano.

"Can…" Feliciano trailed off, trying to sit up.

Switzerland was looking downright murderous. "I swear, if either of you dies, I am _not_ responsible. I signed the damn form."

"We know."

Filling the glasses with a gurgle of scotch, Switzerland slammed the shots down the table. "Merry Christmas," he glowered.

Although the two Italies had been enthusiastic at first about this last drink, both seemed to be having difficulties mastering their hand-eye coordination. Feliciano reached in the opposite direction completely, nearly falling out of his bar stool. Romano managed to somehow smack Germany in the face while reaching for his drink. Neither were able to find the shots; instead, the two were groping around the bar. "Where are they?" Romano demanded.

Switzerland shook his head and started walking away. "I'm out."

"Ah-ha!" Feliciano picked up his drink successfully, holding it up in the air. "I wiin~!" Before he could drink, however, he fell over backwards, dropping the glass and collapsing onto the floor in a drunken stupor. Germany grabbed him and swung him over his shoulder.

"Have a safe walk home," he said curtly, with a nod in Spain's direction. The Spaniard nodded, watching Romano continue to fumble finding the glass. As Germany walked out with an unconscious Feliciano, Romano suddenly grabbed the scotch and downed it like lightning, as if he wasn't impaired after all.

"I win," he said simply, before attempting to stand and failing miserably. "Why is it raining inside?"

"Time to get you home!" Spain said cheerfully, sweeping Romano off his feet in a bridal carry. Romano put up no resistance at all, leaving Spain to wonder just how bad off he was.

"I beat him," Romano gloated, sounding ominous and eerily sinister. "Everyone knows little brothers can't outdrink their older brothers." Continuing his slurred victory speech, Romano let Spain carry him home.

Even though Romano was finished, Spain knew there was hell waiting for him now. Not only would Romano be puking all night, but he was going to wake up with a hangover and a homicidal mood. What a way to win a contest. And he thought England was terrifying.

Romano: 2 Feliciano: 2

Owari

--

Note: REMEMBER – binge drinking is extremely unhealthy, as is underage drinking! Know your limits! The nations are an exception, since they're extremely old technically and can't die from something as little as alcohol poisoning. DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME OR ANYWHERE ELSE. You dig? And if you drink, be responsible and bring a sober friend, as these guys have done!

But all in all, writing drunk Italy was extremely amusing. I personally think Feliciano should have won this one, since he's hung out with Germany, who is a beer guzzler. But hey, I love my tsudere Romano. He's got to win a bit too. Review, or else Switzerland will invade your vital regions – and you won't get Swiss goods either.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Sibling Rivalry 5

"Well, I've finally done it," Romano announced, throwing open the door to his house. Italy, who had been sitting around idly as he always did, turned from the couch to the door.

"What happened?" he asked cheerfully, happily noticing his brother was in an unusually good mood, which meant the rest of the day could go by smoothly. Usually, at least.

"You know how everyone calls me cute? Well, at least Spain does…" Romano's expression darkened for a moment and Feliciano fretted between diving for cover or apologizing profusely although he had done nothing wrong. "Anyway, regardless…but today is different." Romano grinned proudly and gestured to himself. "Today, someone called me _sexy_."

Feliciano stared at him. Romano continued. "I was hanging around the plaza and talking to some girls and usually…you know the local girls…they sort of flirt around and it's all really cute. But this girl, this beautiful brunette…she just looked at me, smiled, and said, 'Hey there, sexy'." Pausing to note Feliciano's reaction, Romano frowned when there was none. "Well?"

"Yes?" Feliciano said, returning to staring at the cracks on the ceiling.

"You don't seem surprised."

"Yeah, well, it's not something too out of the ordinary, is it?" Romano smiled for a second, willing to take that as a compliment before scowling again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Feliciano sat up. "You mean this is the first time someone's called you sexy?"

The look on Romano's face seemed to twitch. "Don't even go there, Feliciano. Don't even open your mouth and say what I think you're going to say…"

Feliciano shrugged. "When I was in Berlin with Germany some time ago, there were a bunch of pretty German girls and they all said I was sexy. And then when we went into this bar place, a bunch of guys said I was too. Germany was a little mad about that, but I told him it was okay, I was used to it."

"It's different for you, you little maggot!" Storming over to the couch and taking Feliciano in a choke hold, Romano went on. "They only think you're sexy in a girl kind of way! That is disgusting since you're a guy."

"No!" Feliciano protested feebly, trying to struggle out of his brother's grip. "Romano, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything!"

"Well, you did you brat. People don't outwardly tell me I'm sexy because my sexiness is too overwhelming for them to say anything."

"Right, right," Feliciano said quickly, hoping that his brother would finally let some air through his windpipe.

"Dammit, in fact, you're not sexy at all! Girls just say that to you because they feel sorry for you, since you go around with that potato bastard all the time!"

"No!" Feliciano started thrashing. "You're wrong! I _am_ sexy, you're just jealous! And I asked Germany too, and he said I was too!"

"Psh. In your dreams, dammit."

"Aag, first of all, I can't breathe!" Romano tightened the choke hold.

"I've got more sex appeal than you, stupid little brother. You barely have your eyes open half the time anyway! And all you do is cry!"

"No! No, no, no!" At this, Feliciano burst into tears and Romano relinquished his hold in order to keep his brother quiet. Feliciano quickly scampered into a safer distance before facing his brother. "Romano, you barely get out. All the people you see all day is just Spain! You don't know what the girls out there like! They like guys like me!"

"You act like a queer sometimes, Feliciano."

"Didn't you know girls like gay guys?!"

"That's just Hungary, Feliciano."

"Fine! Let's go ask someone! You frown too much, though. It might not be fair."

"Shut up, bastard! Fine! Let's go ask someone!"

At once, the twins dashed out to scout some girls out. To their dismay, every single girl they approached blushingly told them they were on the same level, as they looked close to identical. The twins had nearly the same tactic when it came to charm and they befuddled every girl they asked.

"This isn't going to solve anything!" Romano burst out as they made their way back to their house. "I'm definitely not on the same level as you, you potato-wannabe! It won't work if we ask normal people."

"Maybe we should ask a country, then," Feliciano suggested.

"Which, though? Most of them wouldn't want to bother about something stupid like this: England would tell us off, America would insist he beats both of us, Russia would attack us, the Asians don't say things like that on a regular basis. And don't even think of asking France," Romano warned, pointing at Feliciano who was starting to open his mouth. "France will do _anything_. I mean, _anything_. It wouldn't be fair either. No Germany or Spain because they'll be biased."

Feliciano stared at him. "I have an idea, brother…"

--

Prussia smiled to himself as he leaned back in his chair. It was strange all together to have both Italy twins show up at his door – Feliciano was not attached onto his brother like usual and Romano wasn't instantly kicking him in his vital regions, so things were good, right? "So what can I do for you two?" the albino asked, his red eyes flashing excitement.

The twins exchanged looks. "We'd like to propose an alliance," Feliciano started slowly. "But you can only pick one of us."

"Really? Aren't you two connected, though?"

"You hardly count as a country to be aligned to," Romano said, rolling his eyes. Prussia's eyes narrowed. "But we'll take your help anyway."

Prussia raised his eyebrows. "Thank you for that insult, Romano. It shouldn't really be hard which part of Italy I should pick then. But both of you sort of suck…Feliciano, although you're nice and everything, you can hardly go around without West. And Romano…your place is practically overrun with the mafia. It's a lose-lose situation."

At almost syncing speed, the twins' faces grew matching smiles. Prussia blinked as Feliciano slid onto the right arm rest and Romano onto the left. "Come on, Prussia~" Feliciano chirped sweetly, sliding a hand up the albino's shirt. "I really need your help~"

Prussia was about to sputter out a shocked reply when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck and Romano leaned in closer, purring. "Forget him, Prussia…can you help me out instead?"

"It's really nice where I live," Feliciano continued, nuzzling into the spot at the crook of Prussia's neck. "It's really sunny all the time. It feels really nice on your skin…" Breathing a soft, hot breath on Prussia's neck, Feliciano smiled as the ex-nation shivered.

"We live in the same place," Romano reminded him, gentler than usual as he brought his mouth close to Prussia's ear. "But if you help me out, you can stay in my _room_…"

Damn! Although on the outside, Prussia was (trying to be) collected, inwardly he was celebrating. How many times had he sorta/kinda dreamt about something like this, one hot twin snuggling on his right arm and one hot twin cuddling up to him on his left. He had to tread carefully, this might possibly be a dream!

"Won't you please help me out?" Feliciano asked, sounding cute. "Prussia…" Wrapping his arms around the now antsy albino, the younger Italy scooted closer.

"What about West?" Prussia managed to choke out. He was a bit more preoccupied with certain other parts of the world, certain vital regions, but he had to regain his family ties…right?

"I'm sure Germany's okay with sharing," Feliciano whispered, his breath hot on Prussia's ear. He glanced over at Romano with a faint triumphant expression.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Romano said, glaring at his brother as Prussia seemed torn as to which twin to look at. "After all, he nearly married you, didn't he? But me, on the other hand…" Taking a big leap, Romano settled himself on Prussia's lap, chuckling slightly at the poke on his thigh. "I have _no_ strings attached."

"Y-yeah, but what about Spain…?"

"What about him?" Romano smiled seductively as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over Prussia's. "You know I never particularly liked him in the first place."

His mind was going on overload. Feeling his head go fuzzy from all the spinning, Prussia decided he'd have to attend to himself before he let guilt take over. Pressing his lips against Romano's, he took his arm from Feliciano's grasp and wrapped it around the elder Italy. Feliciano blinked in surprise as he watched Prussia make out with his brother and his brother actually returning the favor, keeping his arms around the albino's neck. Presently, he felt his brother kick him, as if to say, 'Go-away-we're-done-here'.

"But…but…" Feliciano felt himself tear up in dismay as Prussia and Romano engaged in another wet kiss. This was going too far, wasn't it? He didn't think he could break them up at this point. Mustering up his brainpower, he found an easy way to stop this battle he was losing.

"_Spain!"_ Feliciano cried, shouting the nation's name loudly. At this sudden outburst, Prussia and Romano broke apart, although they were still a bundle of arms and legs. "You idiot," Romano snapped, his face flushed, "Spain can't hear you."

The door burst open, and as if he had been waiting outside all the time to listen for his cue to enter, Spain tumbled into the room breathlessly. "Italy! What's wrong?" His face darkened like a husband discovering a wife's affair as he noticed Prussia and Romano at unholy proximities to each other. Marching across the room, he plucked Romano from Prussia's lap. "Prussia! What do you think you're doing?"

"I was only making out with Romano," Prussia said meekly, staring up at his friend. Spain glowered. "Well, I can't help it if Romano's sexy!"

Romano's face lit up.

"Yes, but although that is true, that doesn't mean you can go about molesting him, Prussia." Turning to Romano, Spain activated his devoted default. "Romano, are you okay? He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No. Do you really think I'm sexy?"

Spain stared at him. "Yes," he said truthfully. "You're cute too."

Romano turned to Feliciano with a haughty expression. "I win," he said simply. "Let's go, Spain." He strolled out of the room very professionally, with Spain following him in a confused state and Prussia calling out, "Wait! Can't we share him?"

When the two left, Prussia sighed before turning to Feliciano. "Well then, does that mean we're in an alliance?"

"Um…no…I don't think Germany would like that a lot."

Prussia wilted, both inside and out. It really _was_ too good to be true after all.

Feliciano: 2 Romano: 3

Owari

--

Note: As the Italy twins are cute, I wouldn't particularly call Feliciano _sexy_…so Romano wins this round. And I heard all your cries, you closeted fans of Prussia/Romano! So yes, I as well do fan service! But really, I picked Prussia because although some play him off as a France-like character, I think he really would be able to pick instead of being like France and offering a threesome. You like? Review, please!


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